


Eager Eyes

by Commander_Freddy



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Sex, Claurenz Week (Fire Emblem), Couple With Couple, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Foursome - M/M/M/M, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Post-Canon, Spitroasting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:48:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22449703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Commander_Freddy/pseuds/Commander_Freddy
Summary: Ferdinand and Hubert enjoy the Almyran delegation's visit to Enbarr in the usual fashion. Hubert, naturally, overthinks every aspect of it.Happy Claurenz Week, sorry this is late and also has these other dudes in it.
Relationships: Claude von Riegan/Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra, Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 12
Kudos: 170





	Eager Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> The working title for this was "Awful Fourful" which tells you everything you need to know, but this particular title is from - what else? - Mr Brightside. 
> 
> Set after Crimson Flower with spared Claude ruling Almyra. Why is Lorenz alive? You try killing him before he's had a chance to roll in the hay with Claude, I don't know, this is a fic about dicks, the politics is just there for set dressing.

It had become something dangerously close to a routine. Hubert swallowed the thought, turned his focus back to the crowded dining room, to the grating clamour of Adrestian merchants desperate to take advantage of this rare visit from the Almyran delegation. But it always went like this, didn’t it? A day full of diplomatic discussions, the full Almyran retinue crammed in with the entire Adrestian parliament arguing about everything that had happened in the past months, followed by a dinner for the delegation, their Adrestian friends, and anyone deemed interesting enough to be given a chance at brown-nosing. And then, afterward…

Hubert jolted as Ferdinand touched him, his beloved’s hand firm against his thigh. He always looked so gorgeous at these meetings, heart and smile alight with the joy of seeing Lorenz again, with the faint hum of anticipation for later, which Hubert hoped no one else could see. But instead of the usual grin and eager lean Hubert had expected, Ferdinand was instead looking at him with a quiet curiosity.

“Are you well, sweetheart?” he asked. Though quiet, his voice was always enough to cut through the din of the over-burdened table.

“Of course,” Hubert replied instantly, but Ferdinand still watched him carefully.

“You’ve got that look on your face,” Ferdinand’s thumb rubbed against Hubert’s thigh. “That overthinking look. Too many people at the table?”

Hubert looked down to his half-eaten chicken breast on his plate, trying to keep his mind focused on actual thoughts instead of that firm warmth against his leg, the same soothing pattern he felt in his dreams.

“I’m fine,” he replied, a little too curtly. He licked his lips. “Anticipatory, perhaps, you could say.”

Ferdinand’s smile returned, but with a sharp edge Hubert desperately needed to feel against his throat.

“Good.”

And Ferdinand turned back to chat away with Lorenz opposite him, as if he hadn’t said anything, as if he hadn’t left his hand on Hubert’s thigh, wasn’t sliding it further up his leg. Hubert’s brain stuttered and he lurched for his stupid crystal wine glass just to give himself something to focus on, something that wasn’t leaning into Ferdinand’s touch and whining for something he’d been aching for since he first heard the Almyrans were returning. He drank deep, casting his eyes around for some proper distraction. But, of course, they had to settle on Claude, instead.

Seated further down the table, beside his husband, the King of Almyra was already watching Hubert and did not seem to mind at all that he had been discovered. He watched Hubert drink, eyes as steady and firm on Hubert’s lips as Ferdinand’s hand was on his thigh. When he drew the glass away from his mouth and Claude licked his lips at the motion, Hubert found himself mirroring him, catching a drop of glühwein that lingered on his lower lip. Claude smiled slow, with just the barest edge of teeth, before returning to his earlier conversation.

Hubert swallowed again, though his mouth was long dry.

The serving staff swapped out their main course dishes for dessert and Hubert barely registered the sorbet now in front of him. His mind was elsewhere. Elsewhen, more like, over three years ago within this same palace, when Lorenz and Claude had arrived to celebrate their upcoming nuptials with old friends and Ferdinand had insisted that they go all out. It had only been fair, in Hubert’s eyes, to allow such indulgence for a beloved friend of Ferdinand’s, even if they seemed to hit every bar and salon in Enbarr in one night, even if they stumbled back to the Prime Minister’s quarters and drained every drop of Hubert’s overly wrought liquor cabinet. It had only been fair. And then it had been a whole lot more than fair, as Hubert had learned just how strong one’s legs had to be to ride a wyvern all the way from Almyra, how different Lorenz’s hair had felt tickling up against his chest than Ferdinand’s did, how it pulled at his heart in such a delightful way to cradle Ferdinand’s head in his lap as someone else ploughed into him.

In a sane world, such a night would have gone quietly ignored, an embarrassment born of drinking that need not be acknowledged. But Hubert didn’t live in a sane world, instead he lived in some bright masterpiece where he spent his nights in Ferdinand’s bed and Claude was the King of Almyra and things were somehow, finally, at the stage where the Empire could spend its coffers on buttering up its neighbours. So it had become something dangerously close to a routine. First the diplomacy. Then the dinner. And then…

“Darling?”

It was Ferdinand’s hand more than his voice that got Hubert’s attention as it squeezed tight against Hubert’s thigh and Hubert snapping to attention.

There were a lot fewer people sitting around the table than there had been last he checked, and a lot more people chatting by the walls and wandering out the doors.

“Would you like to take a walk with Lorenz and I?” Ferdinand asked.

“Of course.” And Hubert stood with all the earnest deference he always offered his partner in public, hovering behind him as Ferdinand rounded the table to link arms with Lorenz and continue their discussion of some mutual acquaintance from the former Gloucester territory.

As he followed behind them, someone else slipped into step beside him, a casual stride betraying the intensity of the gaze directed at him.

“You’re distracted,” said Claude.

Hubert hated how low his voice could get, how his conspiratorial tone never failed to wipe his mind blank. It had nearly been his undoing during the earlier parliamentary meeting. Bastard. As damned as the heart that beat too fast within his chest.

“Perhaps,” Hubert replied.

Claude followed his gaze to where it lingered on the men in front of them. Lorenz’s hair always swished about with such energy, which wasn’t too surprising considering his gait was more reminiscent of a dressage pony than anything else, all slim hips and light heels. Ferdinand was different. More bounce than Lorenz, there was no denying that, but his hair sat heavier against his shoulders, only a few loose strands floating up and down with each step. It took intent to get Ferdinand’s hair messy. Just as it took intent to get him to stumble, each strong step a reminder of the power and control in his legs, his core, how he stood as a monument of loyalty, unbowing in even the worst storm, a steady anchor in even the worst nights.

Lorenz, though. Hubert could probably get Lorenz on his knees with a particularly strong breath.

“The Palace of Enbarr sure is big,” Claude said after a moment’s quiet.

“Impatient,” muttered Hubert, as if he could not feel the tension building in his gut with each passing second. “For security measures, the Prime Minister’s quarters are a significant distance from any entrances, to prevent unauthorised entry.”

“Really?” said Claude. “Because I’ve seen quite a few people gain entry to His Excellency’s quarters-”

Hubert turned to him, eyes a flat stare.

“Really? This is the calibre of humour you’re bringing to the table?” he asked.

“Would you prefer a joke about his ‘entrances’?” asked Claude.

Hubert’s brain decided that instead of thinking up a snide response, it would instead remind him of just how familiar Claude was with Ferdinand’s _entrances_ , of the last time the Almyran delegation had visited. Claude, pressed up against a kneeling Ferdinand’s behind, licking deep into him as Hubert came at him from the front, Ferdinand’s cock pressed hard against his palate. The noises coming from Ferdinand were incomprehensible, tripping over each other, absolutely rhythmless, as Hubert and Claude gripped at the same thigh, their fingers occasionally brushing in a strangely thrilling intimacy.

“Are you two playing nice back there?” Ferdinand asked, tossing his head back to them and capturing Hubert’s attention.

“No,” said Hubert and Claude in unison.

Lorenz looked back at them just to glare, but Hubert could only focus on Ferdinand’s smile, the cheeky bite at his lower lip and the way he glanced to where Hubert and Claude’s hands were close enough to bump against each other, glove against glove.

Maybe Claude was right. Maybe it was too long of a walk to their quarters.

But they did, somehow, make it there in full propriety, despite Claude grabbing Hubert’s hand and waxing lyrical about how lovely his gloves were and how Hubert must tell him of his leathersmith as if he wasn’t stroking the lines of Hubert’s palm, pressing in at the intersection of Hubert’s fingers. Not to mention Ferdinand insisting it was somehow warm in a palace of stone during Guardian Moon and shrugging his jacket off, exposing the curl of his waist beneath a shirt so tight it felt like a joke. Lorenz seemed to be the only one of his companions who could restrain himself from some sort of lascivious showboating, but Lorenz didn’t count because his entire, perfectly comported existence seemed to invite action.

Ferdinand played the charming host once they reached the quarters Hubert still thought of as being solely the Prime Minister’s, despite the fact that he’d woken up there every day for years, despite having given the former Vestra quarters over to his staff ages ago. He still wasn’t entirely sure where he fitted into Ferdinand’s life. As he sat awkwardly on the edge of Ferdinand’s loveseat, he watched Claude settle into his armchair with ease, Lorenz perching on his knee with those long-booted legs folded over each other. Hubert blinked slowly, tried not to think of how much a mess he must look. The brandy Ferdinand was pouring for their guests was Hubert’s, technically, but he didn’t mourn its use. Everything he owned was Ferdinand’s, if not explicitly stated, then in his mind. He wasn’t sure what that made them, when their staff were one team instead of two, but they’d never made any announcement, when the position of Prime Ministerial consort was vacant, but Hubert’s arms were full every night.

At least Claude and Lorenz were an actual matched set, a married couple enjoying a dalliance on vacation, or something close enough. What the hell was Hubert doing? 

All thoughts and most of his breath disappeared, however, as a mass of muscle and embroidery landed in his lap. Ferdinand laughed gently at his surprise, legs sprawling everywhere as he reclined against Hubert’s spidery thighs, two glasses of brandy in his hands spilling all over the place. Hubert swallowed as one of those strong arms circled around his neck, and Ferdinand’s face rested so close to his.

“Hello darling,” said Ferdinand, all teeth and dimples.

“Evening, Prime Minister,” replied Hubert, shooting for droll and landing in squeaky.

The arm around his neck circled tighter, pressing a glass to the side of Hubert’s face. Still grinning, Ferdinand leaned ever closer, his hot mouth on the side of Hubert’s neck, separated from desperate flesh by a collar starched twice each morning.

“You’re still so tense.”

Ferdinand’s tone was so much gentler, so much further from teasing, than Hubert had expected.

“If you’d rather not, darling, just say the word.”

Hubert gripped tight at Ferdinand’s waist, felt the shift of sinew beneath his fingers. Perfect man. His other hand finally reached up for the brandy glass knocking at his cheek, but he didn’t drink. Instead, he buried his mouth where it belonged, where the sweep of Ferdinand’s hair met the back of his ear.

“I want this,” he breathed, Ferdinand squirming tight in his lap at the puff of air to his ear. “Forgive my overthinking, please, beloved.”

Ferdinand’s shoulders stretched against Hubert’s torso as he leant behind his back to set his brandy glass on a table somewhere, his newly freed hand coming up to unbutton Hubert’s collar, and then one or two buttons more. Hubert’s gloved hands dug in tighter to the flesh just above Ferdinand’s thigh.

“Any interesting thoughts you care to share?”

Their lips met and Hubert parted for him without question, relishing the tender fury of Ferdinand’s teeth against his lower lip, the forceful slide of his tongue. Ferdinand drew back, took a breath for some quip no doubt about Hubert dodging the question, but Hubert wouldn’t let him get there, lurching back up to kiss him again. Both hands circling Ferdinand so he could pass himself his untouched brandy and abandon it on the same table beside the lounge, he nestled closer to Ferdinand with his whole body. Hungry for the hands dancing at his collarbone, starving for the flesh hidden from him by too many layers, half of them his own.

A breathy, earnest gasp filled the air and Hubert felt Ferdinand jolt in his arms as together they realised it had come from neither of them. The two turned as one to look across to the armchair where Claude and Lorenz sat, and it was Hubert’s turn to twitch as he caught sight of Lorenz. The sumptuous purple dress coat he’d been wearing at dinner had slipped down over his shoulders, pooling in his elbows to reveal the bare expanse of back. Lorenz may have been slim enough for Claude’s splayed hand to cover almost the width of his ribs, but he was assuredly strong, with back muscles that shifted beneath pale skin with each of his movements. There seemed to be a great deal of said movements as he wriggled in Claude’s lap. Hubert found himself wondering just what Claude’s hands were doing, behind that expanse of purple.

“By all means,” said Ferdinand, “Make yourselves comfortable.” 

Hubert snorted into Ferdinand’s hair, but kept his eyes on Claude, who was sticking his tongue out at Ferdinand. Lorenz seemed to be paying no attention to anyone except his husband, canting back as if he couldn’t handle his own arousal. Hubert breathed, shaky. One of his hands slid over the warm rise of Ferdinand’s thigh, the taut muscle of his equestrian experience apparent even through soft leather jodhpurs, to cup at his crotch. Hubert licked his lips. Ferdinand was nowhere near as riled up as him, only the barest beginnings of an erection pressing into his hand, nothing like the definite fire Hubert could feel within his own trousers.

He was still looking at Claude.

The King of Almyra grinned at him, and Ferdinand gasped as Hubert’s hand clenched on instinct. Claude kept his smiling eyes on Hubert as his arms shifted, leaning in to bite at the ridge of Lorenz’s shoulder, drawing out another of those whiny gasps. Ferdinand’s fingers were back at Hubert’s buttons, and then inside his shirt, tweaking at a peaky nipple even as Claude looked up at him through heavy lashes, teeth still buried in his husband. The tiniest groan escaped Hubert.

This was the best part of it, the worst part of it. There was always so _much_ , and Hubert didn’t have enough eyes or hands or, he was beginning to suspect as Ferdinand’s mouth found his chest, enough brain power to even comprehend what was going on. There was too much pleasure, a buffeting ocean of hedonism, and Hubert could not handle it. But this was barely the beginning.

“Hate to break it to you,” he called to the Almyran delegation across from him, hoping his voice wasn’t too painfully breathless, “But this room is occupied. If you’re going to get someone off in here, the least you can do is give the rest of us a look.”

Ferdinand uncurled from his position against Hubert’ chest as he spoke, spreading his legs so that one dangled off Hubert’s lap, and revealing the bulge that Hubert was teasing. Hubert hadn’t even prompted him, but Ferdinand had stepped in to back up Hubert’s teasing immediately. Hubert’s fingers stuttered. Perfect man.

“Jealousy is rather unbecoming on you, Minister,” retorted Lorenz.

It was more than a little disappointing to hear his voice still so steady and calm when Hubert was getting so riled up just by the feel of a clothed cock against his hand and the sight of Claude’s shoulder pumping rhythmically. Lorenz’s ever-present smugness certainly wasn’t helping either, not Hubert’s annoyance or his arousal.

“Is he even actually getting you off?” Ferdinand asked. “Or is he just teasing you because he knows how much Hubert likes to watch?”

Hubert felt his ears turn bright red even as Claude began to laugh.

“I suppose I have no choice to defend my honour, then,” Claude grinned, his free hand coming up to rest atop Lorenz’s thigh, spreading his legs further apart and pushing the purple fabric off to display Lorenz’s tight, pearlescent trousers.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Hubert heard Claude whisper, nestling his head close to Lorenz’s collarbone.

Hubert rested his own head atop Ferdinand’s. The arm not at his crotch circled around his back, drew him closer, feeling the heat of Ferdinand’s cheek against his heavy-beating heart.

Lorenz kneeled up astride Claude’s lap, his arms going limp and letting his purple coat fall the floor. Despite the thumbs that immediately went to his waistband, Lorenz readying to remove his trousers, Hubert found his eyes stuck instead of Claude’s hands. One toyed with Lorenz, tucking his long hair behind his ear and tweaking his nipples, but the other stayed at his hip, just above his belt loops, steady and gentle as Lorenz undressed. A dark thumb traced gentle circles against that hip, and Hubert found his own hand mirroring the movement in the gap where Ferdinand’s shirt slipped from his trousers, a beautiful little sigh against his chest as Ferdinand’s mouth returned to play with his nipples.

But as Lorenz’s trousers joined his coat on the floor, Ferdinand’s tongue disappeared and his whole body went rigid. Hubert blinked, looking for the source of this sudden change, and landing on Lorenz’s ass.

 _Ah_.

Ferdinand had long enjoyed dressing up for Hubert in private. Perhaps, more accurately, he enjoyed letting Hubert dress him up, as most of the lace and stockings that filled their closet were Hubert’s selections, but despite how he delighted in Hubert’s hungry eyes when it was only the two of them, Ferdinand had never been open to wearing any of his finery around Claude and Lorenz. Hubert hadn’t pushed, but he had suggested it (only once!) before each Almyran visit. It had been only a few days ago that Ferdinand had admitted that the reason he was so reluctant to wear any of his lingerie around them was because of Lorenz.

“You know how he is,” he’d said. “He has so many opinions about the proper way to do things, and quality and fashion and… oh, everything. I just know he’d catch one look of whatever it was I was wearing and I’d be hearing about nothing but the flaws of chiffon for the rest of the trip.”

Hubert had pressed a kiss to his knuckles and promised that he would let the topic drop. Which he had.

Until Lorenz was sitting in front of them wearing nothing but the scantest hint of satin and lace, only a thin band of black circling his stomach, with the rest of the garment disappearing between his cheeks.

“ _Really_?” Ferdinand hissed against his chest.

“Yours are far nicer,” murmured Hubert.

“I know _that_ ,” Ferdinand replied. “I only wish I could have proven it to _him_.” He shuffled a little in Hubert’s lap, rubbing his own ass against Hubert’s erection. “Besides, now I feel like I turned you down for nothing.”

“Oh, darling,” Hubert murmured.

The hand at Ferdinand’s crotch lifted, found his chin and pulled him in for a kiss, long, deep, and urgent. Ferdinand was so strong everywhere, even in his jaw, the powerful pull of his lips on Hubert’s enough to get him intoxicated every time. The hand moved from chin to hair, pulling him closer as Hubert licked into his mouth. Ferdinand panted against him and Hubert’s hand on his waist slipped lower. He really hadn’t enjoyed Ferdinand’s ass properly yet, he’d been too preoccupied with his own worry-dusted fantasies, and what a mistake that had been. Ferdinand always dressed impeccably, had rows upon rows of jodhpurs and indecently tight dress pants, but Hubert would never get tired of digging his nails into them and feeling the soft cushion of his partner give way to his insistent touches. He pinched tight, got Ferdinand to gasp, and thrust his tongue into his mouth while relishing in the jiggling twitch of Ferdinand’s ass beneath his hand.

“My, my, someone seems to be enjoying the view.” Hubert’s eyes snapped open at the sound of Claude’s voice. “Do try to remember how to breathe, Ministers.”

“I forgot you two were here,” Hubert muttered.

“Again?” Lorenz asked, voice finally unsteady. “You looked as if you’d forgotten us not a minute ago.”

Hubert, focusing on him once again, couldn’t help the surge of arousal he felt at the sight of his lingerie pushed to the side by Claude’s fingers, two of them already teasing around his hole.

“I can forget things more than once,” Hubert retorted, mentally kicking himself for how childish that sounded. “After all, why would I need to remember you two when I have everything I need right here?” 

He squeezed Ferdinand’s ass, but could not begrudge his partner the eyeroll he received for his cheesiness.

“We can just leave, if you like,” offered Claude, snapping the waistband of Lorenz’s underwear.

“Oh, do go ahead,” replied Ferdinand. “I’m sure you’d make a fine parade for the staff.”

“Hey, I’m still fully dressed!” cried Claude in mock outrage. “I still have my sash on and everything.”

“Why?” Hubert, Ferdinand and Lorenz all asked together.

Claude snorted, shaking his head, and he looked so genuinely amused that Hubert couldn’t help the tightening of his chest, the smile that he hid in Ferdinand’s hair.

“It seems I’ve been outvoted,” he said, shaking his head.

“ _Voted_? Aren’t you a king?” Hubert asked.

“You people are impossible,” Claude muttered. 

Hubert could have sworn he could see a little twist of a smile on the side of Lorenz’s face. Ferdinand, however, shifted in his lap and then, to greater distress than Hubert was comfortable admitting, stood to walk over to the others.

“Allow me to show you some mercy, Your Majesty.”

Ferdinand crossed the room in intoxicating strides, Hubert’s lap cold in his absence. Warmth returned, at least to Hubert’s face, however, when Ferdinand leapt to perch upon the arm of the chair, his plump thighs straining the seams of his pants. Leaning over in a way that just _had_ to be calculated to have the most amount of his chest peeking through his shirt, he caught hold of the embroidered gold sash that adorned Claude and pulled it up over his head. But he didn’t relax back upright. He stayed bent forward, eyes on Claude. Hubert felt his mouth grow dry as Claude reached for his partner, took his chin between thumb and forefinger, and lead him into a kiss full of teeth and tongue. 

Watching a kiss from the side was so completely divorced from how Hubert normally experienced Ferdinand’s lips, but the ghosts of the sensations were there. With each slip of the teeth, Hubert could feel the pressure against his own lips as clear as day. Ferdinand’s chipped left incisor. The erotic burr of Claude’s beard. Those little kitten licks Ferdinand so rejoiced in, and, Goddess, how absolute filthy they looked from an outside perspective.

Hubert rose to his feet. Desperate to look casual despite the fact that no one was looking at him, he moved to linger behind Lorenz. Keeping his eyes ever on the King of Almyra drowning in the ocean that was Ferdinand’s strong mouth and gentle hands, Hubert let his fingers skim around the sides of Lorenz’s ribs. The Pride of Gloucester shivered beneath his hands and Hubert felt an unexpected blossom of pride when Lorenz immediately leant back against him, his back cool against Hubert’s half-bared chest. Hubert let his fingers trace one of Lorenz’s nipples, absentminded as he watched Claude and Ferdinand. He wanted to let go, to surrender to the desire and just enjoy the show as he toyed with a beautiful, squirming man, but he couldn’t get there. Something was too tight within, some concern that this was all wrong, despite the fact that this was the fifth-or-so time the four of them had come together like this. Alarms blared in Hubert’s head, telling him he was betraying Ferdinand’s trust even as Ferdinand himself was pulling tight at Claude’s hair and drawing from him all manner of little moans, so unbefitting of a king. The alarms did not fade, no matter how Hubert stared at his lover’s delight.

Nothing for it then but to shake up the situation. Hubert slipped an arm under Lorenz’s armpit and drew it close across his chest, giving him a moment to feel the tension and realise what Hubert was about to do, before his other hand scooped up beneath Lorenz's legs and hefted him in his hands.

“I see you’re not using this,” announced Hubert, as he hoisted Lorenz up into the air, “So I’m sure you won’t mind if I take it.”

Claude cut off his kiss with Ferdinand with a squawk, jolting to look up at Hubert, who was already adjusting Lorenz in his arms and heading toward the door to the bedroom.

“You alright with this?” Hubert asked Lorenz, voice low, as their respective partners scrambled to their feet behind them.

Lorenz nodded, hasty, letting out a stuttering “Ye-es,” and Hubert paused. That really didn’t sound like he was enjoying himself. Then Lorenz twisted in his arms and his erection, rock hard and absolutely soaking his lingerie, pressed up against Hubert’s forearm for a moment.

Ah.

Perhaps this would be useful information to remember.

But Hubert didn’t exactly have time for scheming, as he was upon the threshold of the bedroom, shouldering open the door, and Lorenz was wriggling in his arms to look over his shoulder, no doubt to wink to his husband chasing after them. It felt _weird_ to be the one doing the manhandling for once. Not that he hadn’t gotten his share of gropes in on Lorenz during their previous affairs – as demanding as he was, it was impossible to leave him untouched for very long, even when there were six hands doting on him – he just hadn’t had the privilege of carrying him before. Certainly not like this, thumbs hard against bony hips, teasing along the curve of his ass. Not hefting him as if he weighed nothing, only to toss him onto the overly plush four-poster monstrosity of a bed Ferdinand had claimed from royal quarters when they had first looted the palace.

Lorenz sure looked good tossed about like that, even if the noise he made when he hit the comforter was more like a squeal than the moan Hubert had been expecting. Hubert crowded in close, hovering over him on all fours, relishing in how Lorenz’s breath hitched.

“Too harsh?” he asked, though he couldn’t keep the satisfied purr from his voice.

“Oh, please, Hubert,” scoffed Lorenz, “You’re about as intimidating as a newborn foal.”

Hubert got him for that, diving to bite at the muscle where Lorenz’s neck met his shoulder, deep, painful, and finally drawing that gasping moan Hubert had been looking for. Lorenz was at his best like this, everything from his voice to his posture open as his hips canted up and he frotted against Hubert with no shame and even less sense. Hubert grunted as that long cock slipped against his skin where his shirt had come untucked from his trousers. Why was he still so dressed? But as Hubert fumbled with his trouser placket, hands appeared from behind him to rest possessively on his hips.

“Geez, you can’t get two minutes to yourself without someone starting without you around here,” he heard Claude murmur.

Hubert licked his lips, finished with his buttons, and breathed out slow as Claude pulled his pants down, taking care to caress his ass as he did so.

“Hardly seemed like you were keeping that moment to _yourself_ ,” Hubert hissed.

He could hear shuffling somewhere out of view, no doubt Ferdinand getting undressed, but Hubert was more focused on the gentle rumble of Claude’s laugh, the beauty of his gentle tenor thrumming through Hubert as its owner pressed against his back. And when one of those hands slipped from hips to press lightly at his stomach instead, what else could Hubert do but let himself be rolled over?

“There you go,” murmured Claude, gentle and low in a way that gripped Hubert’s stomach tight. “There you are, you silly jealous bastard.”

Hubert opened his eyes to scowl, the look somewhat marred by the blush that arrived as Lorenz finished shuffling Hubert's pants off. 

“I’m not _jealous_ ,” he scoffed. And he wasn’t, he could tell. He never wondered if Ferdinand held either of the Almyran monarchs in higher esteem than himself, he never doubted the sincerity of Ferdinand’s affections, and when Ferdinand pressed him face-first into this very mattress, Hubert knew there was no one else in his partner’s heart.

But as Hubert wondered just how Ferdinand and Claude had amused themselves while he was busy feeling up Lorenz, he found himself tainted with a hint of a different kind of envy. Hubert moaned, far louder than even he anticipated, as Lorenz’s teasing lips brushed against the side of his cock as Claude circled around him to sit by his head. How he ached for those extra hands, to be held down on all sides and be taken mercilessly, more pleasure wrung from him than he himself could enjoy in one night.

Hubert grunted, neck straining, as Lorenz’s lips closed around his head.

“You really are wound tight tonight, huh?” And Claude was there, his broad chest a pillow for Hubert’s back. Strong hands roaming across Hubert’s neck and collarbones, the scrape of a fingernail against his Adam’s apple, just the way he liked it.

Hubert sighed, hot and breathy. He felt a little guilty at how his hips stuttered, grinding his dick into Lorenz’s mouth, but the man between his legs certainly didn’t seem to mind. His jaw just dropped lower, taking more of Hubert in with each pump of his lips. Hubert had never known anyone to delight in sucking cock quite like Lorenz did. It was plain enough to see in the way he pleasured his husband – which Hubert had been party to more times than one might expect – how white his knuckles became as he gripped knightly thighs, how loathe he seemed to be to come up for air. But nothing could quite compare to being on the receiving end. Ferdinand certainly wasn’t shy when it came to getting on his knees, but, truth be told, he much preferred to have Hubert grip his hair and fuck into his mouth, sitting back and taking it instead of doing much work. Lorenz, however… He sucked dick like it was his only hope of survival. He worked himself close enough to lean flush against Hubert’s pubic bone fast enough to make himself gag, but when Hubert tried to slow him down with a gentle hand, he was slapped away.

“He doesn’t like having his hair touched,” Claude murmured through a fond smile.

Hubert snorted, even if it was soon overtaken by another gasp. It was increasingly hard to focus on anything – even long nights spent with Ferdinand, playing with each other’s hair – that wasn’t Lorenz’s mouth. His tongue seemed to dance everywhere, running along his veins, his head, stretching all along his cock in everything from gentle licks to the insistent press of a flat tongue, demanding all Hubert could give. Hubert’s voice cracked into a moan, his hips surging forward as Lorenz swallowed around his length.

“My, look at you.” And there was Ferdinand’s voice. But where were his hands? Why weren’t they on Hubert’s burning skin?

“Just look at how well you take it.”

Hubert shifted as the pressure in his abdomen built. He was talking to Lorenz. No doubt he was touching him too.

Claude stroked circles around his navel, but it did nothing to ease the ache inside. Lorenz’s thumbs dug in even harder to Hubert’s hips as he swallowed around his head.

“C’mon, you’re so close.”

Claude’s voice always got him going. So smooth and playful but with that genuine tenderness underneath, stoking Hubert like a fire. Claude laughed in his ear at how Hubert shuddered.

“Show me what’s going on in that clever little brain of yours,” Claude continued. “Give it to me, Vestra.”

And Hubert turned cold. The wrong kind of tension snapped within him and he kicked out, clammy limbs pushing away Claude even as Lorenz’s ministrations slowed, Hubert’s dick gone soft in his mouth near instantly.

“Don’t-” Hubert rasped. Even he had no idea where this was coming from. “Don’t call me that.”

Everyone seemed to stop all at once and Hubert felt his face catch alight.

“S-sorry,” he grit out.

Forcing his eyes open, crisis training kicking in, he caught sight of Ferdinand, still hovering over a kneeling Lorenz, looking down at him with eyes so brimming with concern that it hurt to look at. Hubert had to close his eyes again. Like a child, hiding from problems he was too afraid to approach.

“Hey.” Claude’s voice was close to his ear, the same as before, but it was quieter now, built on a subtle kind of strength. “It’s alright, sweetheart.” His hand trailed over Hubert’s chest, feather light. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise.”

Hubert swallowed.

“Neither did I,” he muttered.

He longed to lean back into Claude, take solace in that firm and steady wall of flesh, but Ferdinand and Lorenz were still in front of him – one more open in his concern than the other, but both no doubt disconcerted by the abrupt change in mood.

“Lorenz,” Hubert said, forcing himself to sit back upright, lean forward and take Lorenz’s chin in hand. “Come now, off your knees.”

Lorenz followed the command on instinct, even if he still watched Hubert rather warily. Hubert rubbed his thumb against Lorenz’s lower lip, barely realising that he was mirroring the rhythm of Claude’s caresses down his spine.

“You’ve been very good,” Hubert whispered, Lorenz’s eyes fluttering shut. A smile ignited at the corners of Hubert’s mouth. Lorenz may have been a bit of a handful, but he was nothing if not predictable. “What would you like?”

Lorenz’s eyes reopened, a little confused. His hands returned to Hubert’s thighs, sliding up toward his crotch, but Hubert pulled them away, gentle, but perhaps too fast. His skin was still clammy, as yet unready for the touch he nonetheless craved. The thumb that remained on Lorenz’s lips pressed harder, drawing out a gasp.

“I’m sure someone would love to sample that hot little mouth of yours,” Hubert purred.

And thank the Goddess for Ferdinand, who had come to know the steps of Hubert’s personal social dance better than his own. A wave of ginger hair came tumbling over Lorenz’s shoulders as Ferdinand leant down to lick along the shell of Lorenz’s ear, well and truly distracting him from Hubert’s still trembling thighs. Perfect man. Hubert relaxed against Claude at last, as Lorenz arched into the teasing touch, away from Hubert and into Ferdinand’s waiting arms.

“You alright?” Claude whispered against his neck.

Hubert nodded, rubbing against Claude’s nose.

“Just need a moment.”

Claude’s lips turned to an almost comically chaste kiss at his throat instead, but Hubert’s heart swelled nonetheless.

“You got it,” Claude replied.

The two of them startled in each other’s arms, however, when Lorenz let out a moan louder and higher than anything Hubert had heard all night. Looking up, he caught sight of Lorenz in Ferdinand’s arms, though not quite the way he had carried him earlier. Instead, one of Ferdinand’s muscled arms gripped Lorenz around the chest, blunt fingers digging into the soft spaces between his ribs, while the other pulled at one of his thighs to spread Lorenz’s legs wide, revealing where Ferdinand’s naked cock ground against Lorenz’s lace-wrapped ass. 

Ferdinand grinned down at them, all sunshine and delight.

“I have an idea,” he said brightly, as Lorenz gagged around his own groan.

“I am _all_ fucking ears,” said Claude, breathless.

Ferdinand winked at him and, despite everything, Hubert felt his dick twitch. Lorenz may have been the undisputed cock-sucking champion of Fódlan, no one in the world had the kind of effect on Hubert that Ferdinand did. And judging from the erection pressing hard against his back, Claude was not immune to his charms either.

“What would you prefer?” Ferdinand asked Claude, still mercilessly grinding against Lorenz, completely at ease despite the fully-grown man he was lifting off the ground. “Taking him from the front, or the behind?’

Claude laughed, a kind of giddy excitement in his voice that only intensified as he caught Ferdinand’s meaning.

“How could I choose?” Claude replied, and Lorenz shot him a sweaty glare, no doubt unimpressed with his husband’s stalling. “But, I suppose, since you so rarely get the chance to enjoy the mouth that comes so well recommended-” here he scratched at Hubert’s hairline, a surprisingly soothing gesture “-I must insist on taking the rear guard.”

Hubert couldn’t help his derisive snort as Claude clambered out from behind him, but his humour vanished quickly as he was left sitting cold and bare on the bed. _Get over yourself_ , he berated himself. He resolutely did _not_ nestle back into the pillows at the head of the bed, though he did lift his legs from where they dangled off the side, and realigned himself so he was looking down the length of the mattress to where his three after-dinner companions were dominating most of the bedspread.

Hubert’s heart always stopped to see Ferdinand’s face all gentle and adoring, whether it was directed at him, or, in this case, the King Consort of Almyra being stretched out on his back, head lolling over the edge of the bed. Ferdinand cradled that head so tenderly, seeming for all the world to be solely concerned with preventing any neck pain, and not like he was standing naked before a hungry mouth. Although, Hubert couldn’t help but notice that Ferdinand wasn’t as hard as he had expected. If his own baseless moment of shock had done anything to curb Ferdinand’s arousal, he’d never forgive himself. Bad enough that he’d ruined Lorenz’s fun, that he’d so embarrassed Claude…

“Hubert?”

His eyes snapped to Ferdinand. He was greeted by a smile, one that always reminded him of the very first time they had exchanged gifts. Hubert never could resist returning that smile, even in his own was always a little smaller, a little more crooked and self-conscious.

“I’ll get the lube,” Hubert replied. Hopefully that came out as more reassuring than dismissive, but he wasn’t sure how to tell, not when he had his back to Ferdinand, rooting around in their bedside table.

There was certainly no shortage of lube in their rooms – in fact, Hubert found there was a downright embarrassing amount whenever he paused to think about it – but the problem was it always seemed to _wander_. There was a vial out in the parlour, he knew because he’d hidden it in some drawer in anticipation of the Almyran visit, like he wouldn’t be mortified pulling lube out of nowhere in front of guests, guests that were eager to start fucking now so _where was the damn_ -

“Here,” Hubert breathed, more relieved than he should have been, letting go of more tension that he should have had. The bloody bottle had been knocked to the floor at some point, though he couldn’t bring himself to be too mad about that, as it usually only happened at Ferdinand’s doing, forgotten in the face of overwhelming eagerness.

“Thank you.” And Ferdinand sounded so truly happy at such a small gesture. His fingers brushing against Hubert’s as he handed over the bottle like a caress, his gaze like a kiss. It was all too much, all far more than Hubert deserved.

At a loss for what else to do, he retreated back to the same legs-tucked-under-himself half-recline of before, fixing his eyes on Claude and the lower half of Lorenz. Even through Hubert’s thousand and one insecurities, his dick still managed to stir at the sight of Lorenz’s legs hitched up around a kneeling Claude’s waist, consort grinding hard against his king’s fingers.

“They really didn’t waste any time, huh?” Hubert muttered.

Ferdinand looked up from where his hands were now empty – Lorenz displaying some pretty impressive core strength to lean up and grasp at Claude’s shoulders as he was opened up – to lean against the edge of the bed and smile at Hubert. Hubert’s heart ached at the sight.

“Come here,” Ferdinand whispered. Perhaps he didn’t even say the words aloud, just moved his lips slightly and Hubert’s brain filled in the rest, heard the same thing he always did when he looked upon Ferdinand. And, as ever, he moved to obey.

Ferdinand’s lips were softer on Hubert’s than they had been on Claude’s. His hands, though, were nothing if not possessive – firm against the small of Hubert’s back and flat against his stomach, taught from the stretch of leaning from where he had shuffled just a little closer. Hubert couldn’t help but breathe out, harsh, against the side of Ferdinand’s nose. Everything always seemed to release within him when he was with Ferdinand, held so particularly in his hands, as if he was no one’s but Ferdinand’s. Maybe he wasn’t. Hubert wouldn’t mind no longer belonging to himself – that man really had no idea how to take care of anyone, and it was no different when he was the one on both sides of the relationship. It wouldn’t feel so bad to be nothing but Ferdinand’s toy, to exist only in this moment forever. Ferdinand suckling on his lower lip, open to Hubert’s urgent and fumbling tongue. Hubert felt the return of a steady arousal instead of just the occasional jolt, and he wasn’t even embarrassed that so much of it stemmed from the heel of Ferdinand’s hand resting so close to his crotch and yet resolutely staying above it. Ferdinand’s physical strength would always be one of Hubert’s most favourite things, but his mental strength – that immovable determination and stubbornness that so plagued every government including his own – had to be at the top of his list.

Ferdinand cut off Hubert’s thoughts as he laughed against his lips. It took Hubert a second to realise it was because Lorenz had just groaned with all the eloquence of a squeaky door and flopped back against the mattress, and not because of his own tangled thoughts.

“Looks like you two are ready, then,” smiled Ferdinand. Hubert was perhaps happier than he should be that Ferdinand kept the possessive hand on his back even as he stroked Lorenz’s sweaty hair.

“Yeah,” rasped Claude. His voice was _wrecked_ , and Hubert couldn’t take his eyes off the curls plastered to his temples with sweat.

Claude, however, only had eyes for the man beneath him, looking at Lorenz like a starving man at a feast. Just seeing such hunger was enough to have Hubert aching. He couldn’t begin to imagine what it would be like to be under the direct force of that gaze.

Ferdinand’s hand finally left him, but it wasn’t so great a loss when he got to watch him coo over Lorenz, stretching him out so his head dropped off the bed and into his hands once more.

“Claude, you enter first,” instructed Ferdinand. “We wouldn’t want dear Lorenz to choke, hm?”

Claude did his best to give a laugh in response, but its airy sound was soon stumbling over Claude’s desperate breaths as he gripped Lorenz’s hips and guided himself into his husband.

“More,” Lorenz whined, seemingly the second Claude’s head entered.

Ferdinand and Hubert shared a glance, twin smirks dancing in their eyes. But Ferdinand soon found himself blinking in surprise when Lorenz stretched a hand up, slapping at his thighs in an attempt to draw him closer.

“Oh, were you speaking to me?” Ferdinand asked, scratching at the nape of Lorenz’s neck.

Lorenz may have been trying to nod – it couldn’t have been easy in that position. But any attempts at coordinated movement from him were cut off by the great convulsing gasp Lorenz took as Claude pressed all the way in, hunched over his husband and breathing shakily. Ferdinand lurched forward at the sight and Hubert couldn’t blame him. His own erection was curving against his kneeling thighs and no one had even really started moving yet. That was about to change, however.

Ferdinand pulled Lorenz’s head back, back, until his neck was as flat and level as his spine – or at least how his spine was supposed to be, if he weren’t arcing up to meet Claude where he leant over him. Ferdinand was gentle, though, stroking along Lorenz’s jawline as he coaxed his mouth open.

“Ready?” murmured Ferdinand.

“Mmm,” Lorenz breathed out, enough air against Ferdinand’s cock to set it twitching.

Hubert shifted as Ferdinand pushed in, his cock rubbing against his own thigh at the sight of his partner stretching Lorenz’s lips to their limit. Ferdinand slid in all the way to the hilt as if it were nothing, as if Lorenz wasn’t making those pained little moans, trying to gasp around the thickest cock in the room.

“My, don’t you feel delightful,” Ferdinand purred. He kept his cock buried deep in Lorenz, but thrusted shallowly as he played with Lorenz’s hair, drawing forth yet another round of whimpers.

Claude wasn’t keeping quiet either. His breath was coming in messy gasps as he remained still and sheathed within Lorenz, eyes locked on Lorenz’s face, though from his angle he probably couldn’t have been seeing much beside his chin and mouth.

“You breathing okay, baby?’ Claude asked, rubbing his thumb in circles against Lorenz’s hip.

Lorenz took in a deliberately deep breath through his nose and brought his left hand to cover Claude’s.

“Good,” Claude sighed, his hips twitching as he adjusted how he knelt. “Alright sweetheart I’m gonna start moving.” He looked up to flash Ferdinand with some kind of look. Hubert had expected some kind of teasing about Ferdinand’s lack of warning, his eagerness to swirl his dick around the inside of Lorenz’s mouth, but instead there was only a raw, beautiful desire writ through his eyes.

It was that look more than Claude’s first motion that set Hubert to touching himself. His breath caught in his throat as he watched Claude surge forward, pulling out slow only to slam back hard into his husband, his movements not particularly fast but so forceful, a different kind of desperation and passion clear with each movement. So different to Ferdinand, who had also decided to move beyond his teasing back-and-forth. Unlike Claude, however, he wasn’t pounding into Lorenz with that ponderous weight of adoration. Instead, Ferdinand was indulging in a rhythmless mess of alternating speeds, something Hubert recognised well from their nights together. Ferdinand lost in the sheer sensations of sex, uncaring of how he looked or any objective expectations of what he “should” be doing, always brought a light to Hubert’s heart.

His grip on his own dick tightened as Ferdinand grew vocal. So many meaningless little endearments, it didn’t matter that they were directed at Lorenz, that they were about nothing in particular. His hand alone wasn’t enough. Not with the buffet of pleasure arranged before him, Claude so desperate for more leverage that he had picked Lorenz up by the thighs and was pistoning him back towards his hips.

Hubert licked his lips. He wasn’t good at… this. The part where he had to take action, the knowing what action to take in the first place. But – he closed his eyes as Lorenz convulsed, Ferdinand and Claude pounding into him at the same time – he was actively watching his partner fuck a married couple. The time for both embarrassment and hesitation was long gone.

“Claude,” Hubert whispered, his hand coming up to fit behind Claude’s ear.

Claude gave a little moan in reply, turning to Hubert as his thumb stroked across Claude’s beard. His lips were open to Hubert’s immediately. Despite his fixation on Lorenz, his unceasing pleasuring of his husband, he still had enough presence of mind to slip Hubert his tongue and lick deep into his mouth. Hubert’s own warning to Edelgard to never underestimate Claude rang in his ears, and he couldn’t help grinning into the kiss.

“Can I suck off Lorenz?” Hubert asked before the adrenaline could fade.

Claude groaned, stuttering deeper into his husband.

“Yeah,” he gasped. “Yeah, I’ll watch him for you.” Hubert returned to lying against the bedspread, resting his face on Lorenz’s stomach. “I might accidentally knock you, though,” Claude warned, even as he slowed his hips a little.

“Good,” said Hubert and took Lorenz in his mouth.

Lorenz cried out, his muscles seizing, but he did not twist beneath the steady grip of six hands, despite how incredibly overstimulated he must have been. Hubert was impressed. But he was more impressed with the hot length jammed up against the roof of his mouth. Lorenz’s cock matched the rest of him, long and slender and, currently, flushed with a deep heat. He was close, closer than Hubert had expected despite the two cocks driving into him, painting the roof of Hubert’s mouth with precum as he twitched with every movement around him. Hubert licked his tongue flat up his shaft. Wouldn’t it be a delight if he were the one to bring Lorenz to the edge first? If despite the ministrations of a doting husband and a man who thrived on hedonism, it was Hubert who pulled him off with only his tongue?

“Shit, _shit_ ,” Claude gasped, and before Hubert could wonder if something had gone wrong, Claude made good on his threat to knock Hubert, his hips slamming into the side of his face as he pushed deep into Lorenz, filling him with cum.

Lorenz whined as his husband rocked through his orgasm and Hubert found himself panting around his dick, aroused on all sides by Lorenz’s high-pitched noises, the harsh slap of Ferdinand pounding into his face and the obscene wet noises of Claude rolling into Lorenz’s now cum-soaked hole. Hubert panted against Lorenz’s shaft and got a thrust to the face as thanks. Lorenz’s precum smeared across his lips and, unthinking, Hubert licked at his head, desperate for more. That was enough. Lorenz convulsed, Ferdinand’s dick slipping from his mouth as he painted Hubert’s face white. Hubert felt his own hips stutter at the splash against his face, though it wasn’t enough to bring him off. Someone was pulling at him, though, up off of Lorenz, who was rolling away, shivering and gasping for air.

“…Alright?” Hubert slurred.

“Yeah, he just gets like that.” It was Claude who was holding him, a hand on his neck and his voice absolutely destroyed, although he sounded more coherent than Hubert would have, had he been in his place.

Hubert watched as Ferdinand climbed up onto the bed, stroking down Lorenz’s convulsing back as he curled in on himself. Despite Claude’s reassurance, Hubert couldn’t shake a strange coldness within him, one that warred with the tingling flush that covered his whole body.

“You sure?” Ferdinand asked, peering down at Lorenz’s hidden face.

It was Lorenz himself who nodded, putting the Adrestian couple at a ease a little, but Claude shuffled over to hover over him regardless. Despite still being covered in cum, Hubert felt a little embarrassed as he saw Claude nestle in beside his husband and stroke though his hair. The gesture seemed too tender, too intimate for him to see. He closed his eyes, swallowed, and did his best to ignore his still-straining erection, which was certainly not being helped by the direct view of Lorenz’s red and leaking ass. He took a steeling breath. He really shouldn’t be… Well, he wasn’t exactly sure what he was feeling guilty about, now, but there had to be something. Intruding on Claude and Lorenz’s quiet moment. Lusting after Lorenz while he was likely quite uncomfortable. Lusting after _anyone_ who wasn’t Ferdinand.

“Your face is a mess, dear.”

Ferdinand. He was upon him, settling in a recline beside Hubert and leaning over him with a handkerchief to blot away the evidence of Lorenz’s orgasm.

“Sorry,” said Hubert, his mind more of a mess than his face.

“None of that,” said Ferdinand softly, firmly, Hubert’s favourite tone.

He took Hubert’s chin in his thumb and forefinger and Hubert went still beneath his touch. How he lived for this – utterly at Ferdinand’s mercy, physically and mentally. Ferdinand could do anything to him, and Hubert would delight in every second. Not only because his partner’s mind seemed to be filled with desires completely devoid of any darkness, relishing in a little sting and bite and wait, but absolutely nothing like the sort of things Hubert used to force himself to get off to in attempts to become the worst man he could. But because, at the end of the day, there was no earthly sensation that could compare to the knowledge that Ferdinand wanted him.

“I love you,” Hubert breathed. His head was too heavy, he was crashing to rest on Ferdinand’s shoulder at nothing more than a hand at his chin and a firm body beside him. Maybe he could cum from that alone, just the feel of Ferdinand, so large and vivid and _hot_ against him.

“And I _adore_ you,” Ferdinand whispered in reply. He lifted Hubert’s chin to better meet his eyes. “Is your head still so full of thoughts, beloved? Or have we finally fucked them out?”

Hubert swallowed.

“I still feel bad,” he murmured.

“About what happened earlier?” Ferdinand asked. “Hubert, you mustn’t. If being called by that name makes you-”

“Not that,” said Hubert. “I… I’m not sure. Despite everything, I still feel… guilty. Desiring people who aren’t you.”

“Hubert…” Ferdinand whispered.

The kiss he placed against Hubert was so soft it was torture.

“Darling, if you…” and then Ferdinand stopped himself. “No, I know this isn’t about you not wanting to indulge in this particular brand of diplomacy,” he said, more to himself than Hubert. “This is because you _do_ want to continue.”

“Yes,” breathed Hubert, shame nonetheless stuck to his throat.

Ferdinand brushed Hubert’s bangs behind his ear. He never did that to himself, it looked absolutely ridiculous and exposed his bad eye to boot, but he always turned to jelly whenever Ferdinand did it.

“You’re allowed to _want_ , Hubert,” he said. “In fact, I love to see you want, to know what it is you desire. And when we share desires…” He surged forward, licking deep into Hubert’s mouth in a long, filthy stripe before pulling back as if nothing had happened. “I find my pleasure only multiplies.”

Hubert quivered, his cock leaking against the inside of his thigh.

“I want you,” he stuttered.

“Would you like me to take you?” Ferdinand asked.

Hubert nodded, fervent.

“I didn’t finish,” he mumbled.

Ferdinand grinned.

“Lucky for you, neither did I.”

Hubert settled in Ferdinand’s lap with an ease he had not felt all night, rested his back against the heavy weight of Ferdinand’s pecs, and sighed, long and slow. Their last few nights had been all frantic and furious – no doubt in part due to the anticipation of their guests’ arrival – but Hubert had missed the feeling of being cradled, of having thick lancer’s fingers work him open as slow and steady as their awkward courtship had been. Ferdinand always lathered himself with a truly lavish amount of lube and though Hubert occasionally found himself bemused at the noises it produced, it felt better than anything else in the world.

He groaned deep and low, eyes screwed shut, as Ferdinand finally deigned to brush his prostate. He’d been too hard for too long, everything was all too much, but he had to hold out for Ferdinand, help him find his release, too.

“Please,” he groaned, leaning away from Ferdinand’s hands.

“Alright, darling, alright,” smiled Ferdinand, but his voice was strained, as taut as the hard cock that pressed against Hubert’s lower back.

Hubert let his eyes flutter open as Ferdinand manoeuvred him to his knees and started preparing himself. While Lorenz was still curled in on himself, chest rising and falling so deep he had to have been asleep, Claude had sat up. A hand still rested on Lorenz’s thigh, but his eyes were on Hubert, as thoughtful and impenetrable as they had been at dinner.

“Hey,” Hubert rasped, and realised he couldn’t manage anything much louder than a whisper.

“Hey,” replied Claude. His eyes flickered from Ferdinand’s crotch to Hubert’s and back to Hubert’s face. “You alright if I join you?”

Hubert looked to Ferdinand and Ferdinand looked to Hubert. Neither could help a little snort at the other’s hesitation coupled with the clear desire in their eyes.

“If you like,” said Hubert. “But I should warn you, I have neither the brain power nor the energy to do much anything myself.”

Claude laughed, crawling over the sheets to join them.

“I don’t know if you've noticed, but that’s just the way I like it,” he said, shooting a glance over his shoulder at Lorenz.

“What, bony and rude?” asked Hubert, earning a reprimanding smooch to the side of his head from Ferdinand.

But Lorenz, it seemed, was not asleep. He had exactly enough energy left to lift his arm ever so slightly off his face and fix Hubert with a glare. Hubert rolled his eyes at him.

“Oh great, there’s two of them,” muttered Claude.

“You’re only noticing that now?” asked Hubert.

“Hey, not my fault,” said Claude, settling in front of where Hubert sat in Ferdinand’s lap. “I’ve never been the one to get double-teamed.”

“I thought you weren’t a fan of _getting_ anything-ed,” asked Hubert, suddenly afraid he’d missed something.

“Well, yeah, but I have two hands,” said Claude with a grin.

Hubert may have scoffed at that, but it was more for show than anything else. Certainly that was an image that would figure prominently in his thoughts from now on, but now was not the time for hypotheticals. Ferdinand had both his hands around Hubert’s waist – contrary to occasional teasing, they were _not_ big enough for his fingers to touch, but they certainly covered more flesh than they left exposed – firm and possessive as they lifted Hubert up, over Ferdinand’s cock.

“Relax,” warned Ferdinand, low and quiet, the same way he always did.

Hubert didn’t think he would ever really be able to relax when he was with Ferdinand, at least not until he had the worry fucked out of him, but he appreciated the sentiment all the same. It was nice, to have such a clear heads up of what was about to happen. To have someone actively concerned for Hubert’s pleasure. Only fair to repay him with everything he could give.

Ferdinand sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth as Hubert sank down onto him. Hubert had never been a fan of overly languorous teasing – which is perhaps why Ferdinand so delighted in doing just that, slowly working Hubert open with only his fingers or just the head of is cock, depriving him of anything substantial until Hubert was openly weeping against Ferdinand’s chest. He pushed down against Ferdinand, relishing in the sting as he bottomed out. Forcing his eyes open, he fixed Claude with a grin as he leant back against his partner, pressing his cheek to his ample chest and biting hard against the flesh.

“Ow,” muttered Ferdinand, but the chastisement was rather ruined by how his eyes were screwed shut, his hair fluttering as he panted out his nose. 

Hubert licked the bitemark, looked up at his partner. He was wrecked, sure, but he’d just been cut off halfway through a spitroast and then had some horny demon climb directly onto his dick, so that was understandable. He was red-hot, a full-body blusher – something Hubert had discovered to great delight once they finally managed to fuck somewhere that wasn’t half-clothed in a darkened hallway – but he didn’t seem to be in any significant distress. Still, Hubert hesitated. He’d already ruined enough things tonight, he didn’t want to get overeager and accidentally go too hard for Ferdinand.

“Sorry,” Hubert muttered against Ferdinand’s chest.

“None of that,” said Ferdinand.

And he began to move. His hips rolling slower than Hubert had expected, slower than he knew Ferdinand could go, but so deliciously deep. Hubert groaned out low, the sound pushed out from somewhere deep within him. His head fell back, his hands gripping Ferdinand’s legs like he was afraid of falling off, only because he was so desperate for a physical anchor, a sensation that wasn’t just the thickness of Ferdinand slamming into him over and over, tearing him open, filling him with heat.

Hubert gasped, seized, as another pair of hands rested on his thighs.

“Hey, it’s just me,” whispered Claude as Ferdinand nuzzled against the back of Hubert’s head, soothing. “Would it be too much if I joined?”

Hubert grit his teeth as one of Ferdinand’s hands pinched tight to where it rested by his nipple.

“Not in a bad way,” muttered Hubert. “But I mightn’t last long.”

“That’s alright,” murmured Claude, his voice moving lower. “I already got mine.”

Hubert grunted as Claude’s hands found his balls, rolling them in time with Ferdinand’s ardent thrusts.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Hubert groaned at the first touch of Claude’s tongue to his head.

Claude laughed as Hubert’s hands immediately went to grasp his hair, pulling him closer even as he pushed himself back against Ferdinand, desperate for all he could get. He’d been wound too tight, had fucked up too much, and now he was close, so close. Claude’s mouth was so soft, so warm. His cheeks were silk against the tip of Hubert’s cock, and while he didn’t take Hubert in particularly deep, the teasing of his lips, his teeth, his tongue, it was all so much. It didn’t help that Ferdinand was pounding into him hard enough to send him lurching into Claude’s mouth. He whined, high and choked, as Ferdinand slammed directly into his prostate.

“Please,” he croaked. He wasn’t sure who he was talking to.

“It’s okay, beloved,” Ferdinand whispered from behind. He ran his hand across Hubert’s chest, teasing at his nipple. “You can let go.”

And with Claude’s final suck to his head, he did. Hubert tensed, strung out and spending against Claude’s lips, before slumped in Ferdinand’s arms and found himself in a warm whiteout, devoid of concern. It always felt wonderful, getting off with Ferdinand, but there was just something else about having one pair of hands milk him of everything he was worth while another held him in place as his partner continued to thrust into him. And it hurt, the relentless pressure of Ferdinand inside him, but it was so good. Knowing how Ferdinand hungered for him, knowing how little control Hubert had left over his own body, and yet it was still enough for Ferdinand. He didn’t have to bow his back and clench hard, raking nails over that freckled back to be what his partner craved. He just had to be there, open and willing absolutely dripping in lube as Ferdinand held him close and raced to his release.

Ferdinand gasped something, a complete mess of syllables that sounded like nothing and Hubert’s favourite poem all at once. Hubert lurched as Ferdinand finished in him, that rush of heat and the hard press of Ferdinand slumping against him absolutely incomparable. Better than his own release, better than any satisfaction he could bring to anyone else, knowing that he had rendered Ferdinand von Aegir boneless was Hubert’s favourite feeling.

“Geez, you two needed that,” murmured Claude, more fond than teasing. “C’mon, Hubert, get off.”

Hands lifted under his arms and pulled, Hubert doing his best to not sound too pathetic as Ferdinand slipped out of him and he came to rest in Claude’s lap instead. Behind him, he could hear Ferdinand make a little disgusted noise. But Ferdinand had always been one for rushing into the clean-up, afterglow be damned. Hubert, however, had never minded a little mess. Certainly not when he was in strong, hairy arms, cradled against a gently breathing chest and having all sorts of delightful little things whispered in his ear.

“I’ll get a towel,” Ferdinand mumbled, and the bed flexed as he climbed off.

Hubert rolled his eyes in the crook of Claude’s neck, already preparing for the sounds of their water basin in the corner. Claude ran the knuckles of his right hand over the perhaps too prominent ridges of Hubert’s vertebrae.

“You doing better?” he asked.

Hubert nodded, his bangs scraping against Claude’s neck.

“I think I got too lost in my own thoughts,” he mumbled after a moment’s quiet. “Started worrying my relationship with Ferdinand was… more fragile than it is.”

Claude hummed, his knuckles still soft against Hubert’s back. But when Hubert found he wasn’t sure what to say next, he felt Claude shift beneath him, Hubert shifting with him so that instead the two were looking face to face.

“What is your relationship with him?” Claude asked, and despite the rising urge within Hubert to scoff, it didn’t seem like he was being teased. “You ever talk about it? Decide what you wanna call it?”

Hubert felt his shoulders raising like a cornered dog’s hackles.

“Gonna take that as a no…”

“Look, we can’t all be married to poets,” Hubert hissed. “Some of us thrive in obscurity.”

“Uh huh,” said Claude with a quirked eyebrow, but then Ferdinand was returning and, blessedly, Claude let the subject drop.

Hubert let himself be rolled around, fussed over with a damp towel and generally pampered. It was annoying that Ferdinand wouldn’t just lie down and serve as Hubert’s pillow once the sex was over, but there was something nice about this, being taken care of. Manhandled. Pressed into the mattress and treated with a hundred fluttering kisses all over him. Of course, it was rather ruined when Ferdinand had everyone rolling to the corners of the bed so he could replace the coverlet, but even though Lorenz whined and Claude retreated to curl around his husband, Hubert didn’t mind. In fact, he felt a swell of silly little pride at how good his partner was at returning everything to its neatest, tidiest, most comfortable state. So when Ferdinand _finally_ judged his work done, leaving glasses of water by their guests’ side of the bed and everything, Hubert welcomed him with open arms, nestling his head deep in the cleft of his chest.

“Hello, dear,” Ferdinand whispered.

“Hello,” Hubert mumbled back.

Ferdinand breathed slow and deep, already lulling Hubert to sleep.

“It can wait until later…” Ferdinand began.

“No, go on,” said Hubert, awake again in an instant. “I don’t want you trying to sleep with things on your mind.”

“How sweet,” said Ferdinand, “But rest assured, you have run me ragged.” Hubert heard him lick his lips. “I was simply wondering if you wished to talk… about how you reacted to your surname.”

“Ah,” said Hubert.

“Only an offer,” Ferdinand whispered. “And one you can pick up at any time.”

“I…” Hubert began, and then sighed, just barely, against Ferdinand’s chest. “I’m not sure why that happened.”

“Of course.” Ferdinand ran his fingers through Hubert’s hair. “Life is full of mysteries, my dear, and you don’t need to solve them all.”

Hubert hummed, feeling his face begin to flush as he recalled his earlier comment to Claude about poets.

“I think I just… don’t like it,” he said after a moment’s pause. “My surname. What it stands for, who held it before me.”

Ferdinand’s head nodded above his own.

“I do my best to live without unasked-for obligation,” Hubert continued, “To devote myself willingly, not because it’s expected. And I can’t help but feel that the Vestra name stands for the exact opposite. When I hear people call me by that name, especially around you and Lady Edelgard and everyone else I have _chosen_ to give my loyalty to… it feels like I’m letting you down. As if my feelings are less earnest because I’m a Vestra – and how else would I feel?”

Ferdinand was quiet for a moment, but Hubert could tell from the way he fiddled with Hubert’s hair that he was still listening, still thinking.

“I feel quite similarly, actually,” Ferdinand whispered after a moment. “That, in a way, despite the person I try to be, my successes inevitably uplift my ancestors, because its their name that gets to be exalted. Because in the eyes of history, what’s one more Prime Minister Aegir?”

Hubert hummed quietly against him, a hand trapped beneath Ferdinand’s arm rubbing circles into the ginger hair there.

“Would you…” Ferdinand began, more timid than he had been all evening. “Would you ever want to change your name?”

Hubert did his best to keep his breathing even and the motion of his hand steady even as he felt his heart begin to pound in his ears.

“…Maybe,” he croaked. “Someday.” He licked his lips. “Would you?”

Ferdinand was not so good at hiding his physical reactions as Hubert was. Beneath his cheek, Hubert could feel his chest lighting up in the full blush he had so delighted in before.

“Maybe,” Ferdinand echoed. “If there was a suitable occasion.”

Hubert’s chest tightened as he pressed his face ever closer to Ferdinand’s skin. He could hear Claude shuffle slightly off to his right but he was not about to engage with whatever embarrassing face was no doubt being made at him. Instead, he breathed slowly against Ferdinand, let the tension in his gut settle as he did his best to make sense of what exactly they were dancing around. The idea – ideas – may have gotten his heart racing, but it wasn’t out of fear or distaste. At worst it was apprehension. But Hubert could tell that, more than anything else, it was sheer anticipation.

“Perhaps you could start thinking, then, what you’d like your name to be,” said Hubert.

Ferdinand breathed a stuttering sigh, Hubert’s fingers stroking him down from the spike of emotion.

“Perhaps I shall,” he murmured in reply. “And so could you.”

That was finally enough to get Hubert shuffling in his partner’s grasp, reaching his hands up to tangle in ginger locks, drawing that beloved mouth down to meet his own. Legs tangling with cavalier’s thighs, Hubert found himself pressed deeper into the pillows, deeper into peace as Ferdinand lulled him to sleep with the gentle press of his lips.

In the morning, things would proceed as normal. Hubert would awake as hard as ever and spend a good fifteen minutes agonising over the etiquette of asking your partner for a morning handjob when you were sharing a bed with two other people, before the fog would clear from his mind and he’d realise that Claude had already solved that particularly quandary and was making good use of his husband’s skills. The four of them would dress with the requisite bickering and Hubert would linger over Ferdinand’s cravat, taking a moment to appreciate the trust Ferdinand put in him, the fact that anyone would let Hubert von Vestra near their neck. They would descend to breakfast and Edelgard wouldn’t say anything even though she had to know. She’d watch them with a wry smile as they shared toast and anecdotes and insults, and then all too soon it would be over, and they’d be diplomats again.

The negotiations would begin in earnest. For Claude and Ferdinand especially, considering their positions, the time for pleasantries will be over, but Lorenz and Hubert will never let an opportunity to bicker slide either, and their vigorous dalliances will instead slip into quiet evenings by the fire, sharing word of old friends and older ghosts alike. Until, all too soon, it would be over again. Claude and Lorenz would re-mount their wyverns and Ferdinand will insist on watching them until they disappear into the sky, and then it will be nothing but letters again until their next visit.

But, perhaps, in that interim, some things will shift. There may be conversations between two people who sorely desire them. There may be thoughts of the future, and names and roles and quiet consideration of the marriage they had witnessed so intimately. Memories of lavender hair tucked away by a loving hand in the midst of a meeting, of laughs that rang out in unison, and of kisses shared so confidently, so openly. And perhaps, ever so slowly, things will begin to change in Enbarr. Particular secrets may become open, and then common knowledge, and then just standard facts. And by the time this glacial tide has come out, it will be time for the Almyran delegation to return – not so much for the usual demands of government, but for the celebration of a certain festivity so similar to the one that marked the first such dalliance, all those years ago. 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Claurenz Week, I'm sorry I only got one thing done and it was late, too. I might revisit some of the prompts in the future though!
> 
> As always, constructive criticism is very welcome, and please come visit me at [ my twitter.](https://twitter.com/commanderfreddy) Also I hate to be a pest, but I have some pretty hefty medical bills I gotta pay after I accidentally went way too hard on the booze at the literal Stonewall Inn (no, really), so if you enjoyed this or any of my other fics, I'd really appreciate if you could help out by going to my Twitter profile link. Thanks lads.


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